


The Pied Piper of Marmora

by zjofierose



Series: Form Ficlets! [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Married Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Pets, Post-Canon, s8 idk her, toothrottingly sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:31:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: It’s cute, the way Keith picks up strays. It is, Shiro tells himself, it is.





	The Pied Piper of Marmora

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookyfoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyfoot/gifts).



> Just a silly little thing for the sweet and wonderful spookyfoot’s birthday HAPPY BIRTHDAY BB, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!
> 
> Credit to @keithlikesboys on twitter (and possibly others?) for the concept of Keith followed by space ducklings, which I couldn’t get out of my head.

It’s never failed to both amaze and amuse Shiro how unerringly animals are drawn to Keith. It’s been true as long as they’ve known each other: the Holt’s dog preferred Keith to anyone other than Pidge; Iverson’s grouchy old rabbit who lived in his office (and whose main goal in life was to nip the ankles of unsuspecting cadets) would sit sedately in Keith’s lap and be pet for hours. Even out in the desert, small rock lizards and ground squirrels would allow him to approach, while raptors and owls would circle overhead curiously.

Knowing what he knows now about Keith’s heritage, Shiro isn’t all that surprised - maybe Earth creatures had recognized that Keith was something different, something special, something entirely unique to their world. Maybe they were drawn to him out of curiosity, or interest, or sheer attraction. Who can say?

It’s a nice thought, but what it fails to explain is how all these non-Earth animals  _ also _ find Keith so damn compelling.

First it was Kosmo, and he’s fine. Useful, even, and very friendly; smart, and large, and Shiro feels good about Keith’s safety whenever Kosmo’s with him. When Keith had first shown up with a massive glowing space wolf, Shiro had just kind of thought  _ of course _ , and then surreptitiously cornered Allura to ask what space wolves eat. (“Whatever they want, I imagine,” had been the unhelpful answer.)

But then there had come the multi-colored space...ducks? Quail? Shiro’s not sure. It doesn’t really matter what they were, he supposes, the salient point is that somehow a whole clutch of juvenile space fowl decided Keith was their mother and took up residence in Atlas, following Keith from room to room and cheeping dejectedly whenever he had to leave in Black. It was cute, real cute, for a while, and then Shiro nearly stepped on one going to the bathroom in the dark, which traumatized both him and the chick in equal measure. And also then they got big, like, small-pony big, which meant that the furious cheeping in Keith’s absence became much louder, and, well. Fortunately the Olkari were very helpful in re-homing them. 

Still, Shiro would take the space quail-lings over the Zarhtok - he’d (obviously) never even heard of such a thing, let alone seen one, that is until the day that Keith disembarked from Black with a lizard the approximate size and shape of a crocodile wrapped around his torso, fanning its leathery wings and hissing. Coran had screamed in a register Shiro didn’t know he was capable of, but Keith had just held up his hands, smiled, and said, “it’s ok, they’re endangered. We just need to transport it to its home world where they can keep an eye on it and try to find it a mate. Two days, tops. It’ll be fine.”

It was not fine.

Shiro slept in guest quarters for a month.

—

Now, Keith is descending from Black, and there is something in his arms, and Shiro knows that look on his face. It’s the, “I’ve already decided this is happening, so you may as well get on board now,” crossed with “Remember how much you love me?,” and what it means is that Shiro is fucked. 

“What is it?” Shiro asks as Keith approaches, the bundle in his arms squirming ominously. 

“A wild manthu,” Keith says, “he’s scared, keep your voice down.” He pulls the edge of his cloak back, and… well, it looks mostly like a cat, Shiro thinks at first glance. It’s not much bigger than your average  _ felis domesticus _ , and has two ears, two eyes, a sort of muzzle and a tail. If it weren’t a rather dark terracotta red, he’d think he was looking at a particularly feral stray that had stowed away somehow, but the color is… unusual. It blinks large black eyes at him from where it peers out from under the fabric, then turns its head to burrow into Keith’s chest, revealing a back absolutely covered in long spiny quills. Shiro blinks.

“Huh,” he says softly, “porcu-cat?”

Keith snorts. “Basically? I found him in Black when I was getting ready to take off, and the natives said I should just keep him. I guess they’re a pest animal where I was, they were just going to…” Keith looks away, and Shiro’s heart cracks. 

“What are we calling him?” Shiro asks resignedly, and Keith beams.

“I dunno. I was thinking Bernard?”

—

Bernard, as it turns out, is a relatively good pet, all things considered. He and Kosmo studiously ignore each other for the most part, which is fine. He house-trains quickly and easily, and sleeps at the foot of their bed every night. 

Shiro’s initial fears of stabbing himself silly on the creature are mostly unfounded - the quills are silky and flexible, and only stabby if you pet him the wrong way. He’s also clever enough to stay out from underfoot, and seems willing and able to eat very nearly anything. He doesn’t take to Shiro the way he takes to Keith, but at this point Shiro’s used to that, and Shiro’s happy to be the designated petter whenever Keith is gone, even if they both know he’s a poor substitute. 

Manthu can, much like the porcupine, detach their quills, a fact which they learn when Kosmo manages to teleport in nearly on top of Bernard one night. Shiro spends a long time carefully coaxing Bernard down off the ceiling while Keith pulls delicate barbs out of a whining Kosmo’s nose. Manthu also apparently have a defensive puffing mechanism, which nearly gives Shiro a hernia from laughing when Kolivan comes to visit and Bernard literally doubles in size, issuing a sound like the tiniest of steam engines. 

Keith, naturally, loves him as much and as openly as he does both Kosmo and Shiro, which is to say, a lot. 

—

They’ve had Bernard for nearly two months when he abruptly disappears. Try as they might, they can’t turn up hide nor quill of him in Atlas or any of the lions. They even scan the ships for lifesigns, but nothing so much as flickers on the readings. 

“Fuck,” Shiro mutters on the third day of searching interspersed with ship’s business, “do manthu have teleporting powers, too? Because I can’t think of any other way he could have disappeared like this.”

“I don’t know,” Keith says glumly, his fists buried in Kosmo’s fur. “I guess I can’t rule it out?” 

“It’s okay, baby,” Shiro says, wrapping his arm around Keith’s shoulder and letting him hide his face. “He’ll turn up, I promise.”

—

Two days later, Shiro is very much starting to doubt that promise, and is growing progressively more concerned even as Keith grows more morose. Everyone on the Atlas is walking on eggshells, hoping against hope that Bernard will miraculously reappear. 

Shiro’s only half asleep when he feels Black’s pull, so he gets out of bed, careful not to wake Keith, and pulls on his robe and slippers.

“What’s up?” He whispers to the ether, following the tug down to Black’s bay. Keith must’ve been too deeply asleep to feel it, he supposes, but that’s alright - Shiro can find out what Black wants, and let Keith know if he needs to.

He walks into the hanger, and Black opens her mouth, beckoning him in. He steps up into the cockpit and settles into the pilot’s seat with a sense of deep familiarity, leaning back and letting his mind go blank as he tries to listen.

Silence rises and falls around him, Black’s connection with his mind reassuring, but uninformative. He gives it another moment, but he can feel himself drifting, and if he’s going to fall back to sleep, he’d really rather do it in his nice warm bed with his nice warm spouse than here at the console where he’s bound to get a crick in his neck. 

He’s just about to get up and go when he hears a faint rustle and freezes. Black doesn’t rustle, nor do any of her usual contents. He holds his breath.

After a long moment, it comes again, accompanied by the faintest of  _ meeps _ . 

Moving as slowly and as quietly as he can, Shiro stands and lowers himself to peer under the console, and there, blinking calmly back up at him from a nest of wires and dangling electronic debris, is Bernard.

More accurately, there is Bernard, and five small, squirming kits. 

“Ohh,” Shiro breathes, his face breaking into a smile as he reaches out to stroke a finger down the prickly back of the closest one. “I see,” he says, and Bernard presses against his hand. “We missed you, buddy,” Shiro whispers, chuckling as he registers the colors of the small bodies huddled in the nest. “You gonna form Voltron next?”

“Shiro?” Keith’s voice is sleepy, and Shiro reaches up an arm so Keith can see him where he’s crouched on the floor. “What’s going on?”

“C’mere, baby,” Shiro snags his husband with an arm around his thigh, “I’ve got something to show you.”

“Wha…” Keith hunkers down, then exhales sharply in delighted surprise, “Bernard!! Oh my god, you came back!”

“I don’t think Bernard was ever gone,” Shiro comments, “I think Black had a hand in our scans not turning anything up.”

Keith’s face goes sharp as he prods at Black with his mind. Shiro can’t hear the conversation itself, but he can feel Black’s self-satisfaction, and it matches very much the smug look on Bernard’s face. 

“Fine,” Keith mutters, and reaches out to rub the tiny head of the yellow kit. “But only because these little guys are cute as hell.” He settles down to sit on the metal floor next to Shiro, leaning sleepily into his shoulder. 

Shiro presses a kiss into his hair. “What are we going to call her now?”

“Duh, Shiro,” Keith yawns, “Bernadette.”


End file.
